


the last something that meant anything

by itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN (Random13245)



Series: there's no you and me, this impossible year [4]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Communication, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, but it's getting better, is that spoilery for what I have planned for the next part? Probably, or at least it seems like it is, the classic 'what are we' question (sort of), they needed to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random13245/pseuds/itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN
Summary: I'll be okay,Is that what you want me to say?It's called break up,'Cause it's broken.





	the last something that meant anything

**Author's Note:**

> cover art is here: http://aminoapps.com/p/u0az71
> 
> the notes @ the end contain the next song ;0 it's a bit spoilery so I've put it under some zalgo text so it's harder to read if you don't want spoilers
> 
> if you do, give that song a listen!
> 
> Anyway, this part is based on The Last Something That Meant Anything by Mayday Parade
> 
> enjoy

_*Well I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours,_  
_About things I couldn't say to you,_  
_And things that we could never do._

Jeremy's apartment is too small, too cozy for real comfort. Michael feels a bit suffocated in it. Especially with the impending conversation.

Jeremy calmly sets down a mug in front of Michael, holding one for himself tightly in his hands. “So,” he starts, sitting down in a chair across the coffee table to Michael, “you wanted to talk.” 

“So did you,” Michael points out, deflecting. Jeremy just frowns in reply. “Sorry. We didn't get to finish talking last time…” Jeremy nods, still gripping his mug without taking a single sip.

“You hardly let me apologize,” Jeremy says quietly, “what did you mean when you said ‘I'm sure you are.’” He sounds hurt and Michael regrets those words. He'd said them in frustration.

“I didn't- I don't _need_ an apology,” Michael says, correcting his tenses midway through.

“Then what do you need, Michael? I- You got space, plenty of it, and time, too. Why- if you didn't want or need something from me, you wouldn't have said everything you've been holding back.”

Jeremy’s right, of course, but Michael still isn't sure what he was hoping to gain from that outburst at the park. “Closure, maybe?” He says as the thought occurs to him, shrugging to emphasize that he still isn't sure of this.

 _*And this conversation has had no face,_  
_When the words take days,_  
_You can re-write and erase anything._

Jeremy looks confused. “So, closure but not… an apology?”

Michael shrugs again. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“Well it kind of is!” Jeremy says incredulously. “I- What are we even doing?”

Michael looks away. “I don't know.”

“What do you want…?”

A much simpler question. “To know you again.”

 _*You know my heart (so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this?),_  
_Knows all these..._

__

Suddenly Jeremy is standing, moving around to the other side of the coffee table and sitting down next to Michael. “I, um- I want that, too.”

Michael nods, registering how close their faces are. And, _oh, god,_ he could kiss him right now, their faces are so close and Michael can feel Jeremy’s breathing on his lips. But he wills himself to look away. “I'm glad that we both agree.”

 _And I'll borrow words from all my favourite paragraphs,_  
_To write a ballad while we say the things,_  
_We'd hope would mean the most to me._

Jeremy laughs a tiny bit, more just a breath out of his nose. He fiddles with his fingers. “We really need to talk about what you said at the park.”

Michael continues to try to deflect. “I said a lot of things.”

“You- you said you didn't think any of- that was important. Or that- that I didn't… care?”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Jeremy asks and his voice is so small Michael hardly hears him.

 _*And each letter sent,_  
_I have found in the pages of hope for the days,_  
_When I feel like I've lost everything._

__

Michael thinks, thinks back to each entry in his journal. “Remember that time at your window?”

Jeremy frowns. “I-” he furrows his brow, thinking, “no?”

Michael sighs. “Of course you don't,” he tries to think of something else Jeremy might remember. He purposely avoids talking about the Halloween party because he doesn't want to discuss it anymore than he assumes Jeremy would. They'd held a silent agreement to not talk about it for years, he wasn't about to break that.

“No, no- if that's the first thing that comes to your mind when thinking about it, I want to understand.” Jeremy says quickly.

Michael looks away, committing to retelling the story until Jeremy remembers. “It wasn't long after you ignored me for the first time, I went to your house. I tried knocking, you either didn't hear or ignored me. I-I was kind of desperate to see you, so I tried throwing rocks, stupid right?” He laughs bitterly, but soon realizes Jeremy is listening intently and grows a bit insecure. “Um, but, you opened the window curtain and I waved and you closed it. I, um, I thought maybe you were coming to the door, but you…” he trails off shrugging.

Jeremy blinks, a bit stunned. “I-I remember that happening, but… I don't remember you being there…” Something clicks behind his eyes. “That- shitty ass floppy disk-” 

“I- what?” Michael almost laughs, but he's too confused to really commit to it.

“The-The Squip, it did this thing- um, shit- optic nerve blocking. Yeah, yeah, and um, it basically could make me like not see anything it didn't want me to see.” Jeremy says in a rush, as if he doesn't say it fast enough he’ll never get the chance to say it.

“So it… made me invisible to you?” Jeremy nods. “Without your permission?” That's when Jeremy winces and Michael knows there's something more there. “Jeremy?”

“Not- Not entirely without my permission,” Jeremy admits softly, looking ashamed, “at first, it was, but it- it was convincing, to say the least.”

Michael stays quiet, though he's trying to understand. “So all that time I felt invisible, I might have actually been,” he tries to joke, he really tries to use a cynical sense of humor to deflect, but it falls flat when his voice cracks.

“Michael…” Jeremy says quietly, realizing he too is close to tears. They make eye contact for a moment and suddenly they're both crying, grasping to each other for comfort.

Jeremy moves away slightly, sniffling. “Wait-” something seems to click again, “so the years after that when we were still friends- you were just- sitting on all this?”

Michael frowns, almost wanting to lie, but he knows Jeremy wouldn't buy it. “Yeah.”

 _*You know my heart (so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this?),_  
_Knows all these parts ('cause my jealous heart can't take that),_  
_So I'll sing this song for every word that's come out wrong._

Jeremy feels so stupid, how could he have not noticed this? Why did he think they're friendship could come away unscathed without talking about anything that happened? How did he spend (he mentally starts counting) the first _eight years_ after the Squip thinking him and Michael were okay? How did Michael go eight years still being his best friend without ever mentioning any of this to him? The only thing he does know is why, and that's because Jeremy made him feel like it wasn't important.

“Jeremy, it’s fine,” Michael shakes his head, “it's long over.”

“But you obviously still haven't forgiven me.”

 _*But, I'll be okay (Is that what you want me to say?),_  
_It's called break up,_  
_'Cause it's broken._  


Michael opens his mouth to protest, but he knows that would be a lie. He has, but he hasn't, in some sense, forgiven Jeremy. He tries to understand the Squip situation, but it's difficult to wrap his head around. “But I will.”

“Are you sure?”

 _No._ “Yes.”

 _*And you were just about to tell me,_  
_How you meant that you were sorry,_  
_And the nights we've spent,_  
_Have really meant the world to you._

They're getting high again, sophomore year, laying out on Michael’s basement floor.

“I could stay right here forever and be happy,” Jeremy mumbles. Michael laughs.

“Dude, that's so fuckin’ cheesy, oh my god.”

“It’s true, man,” Jeremy rolls onto his stomach, facing Michael with an intense stare, “I love you, dude.”

“Love you too, dude,” Michael rolls his eyes fondly, but his heart starts to beat a bit faster.

“I could live in these moments with you forever.”

“You get incredibly sappy when you're high,” Michael points out, not acknowledging anything Jeremy said.

 _*Let's not pretend I'm keeping track on every note,_  
_On every page the day she wrote,_  
_The cherry flavored kisses,_  
_Well, I taste them,_  
_Do you miss it?_

The tears evaporate soon and they're left still very close to each other. Michael looks at Jeremy, the ghosting sensation of kissing him in the hallway hitting him hard. Jeremy seems to be on the same page, because he reaches up and cups Michael’s cheeks in his hands. Michael could almost just close his eyes and let whatever will happen happen. But he can't, he can't when he still hasn't let go of certain pains. So he gently moves Jeremy’s hands away and places them back into Jeremy’s own lap.

Jeremy looks hurt, but not surprised. “Are we- I mean, do you think there could ever be a chance for- for an _us_.”

Michael can't say for sure, so instead he says, “I’d like to think so.”

Jeremy seems satisfied with that answer.

 _*I'll be okay,_  
_Is that what you want me to say?_  
_It's called break up,_  
_'Cause it's broken._

 _*Well I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours,_  
_About things I couldn't say to you,_  
_And things that we could never do._

**Author's Note:**

> Ŗ̶̧̛̫̩͔̟͈͚̍͂̏̾͟͞͞ĩ̶̛̤̹̫͖̥͐̎̈́̾̊͢͢͝g̸͓̪͉̥̭̟̟͔̍́̓͗̅̓̐̕̚͠ͅh̢̯̝͉̼̆̿̆͌̒͜͡t̗̲͓͚̻̩̠́̒͛̇̕ G̷̩͕͇̰̹̠̤͍̟̙̾̐̂̎̎͋̚͝͞į̡̺̲̖͎̒͒̐͊̃̎͗͢͠r̸̜̺̮͈͉͇͍̈́̈̅̄̿̈͑͐l̼͔̰͇̟̗̺̎́́̆͒̒͂̋̕ b̸̛̮͈̦̜̠̩͂͋̓͌́͐̈́͑͘͜ÿ̸̦̮̖̳́͗̀͂́͑͢͞͞ T̡̫̣̲̳̣͉̺̂͗̑͊̈́̆ĥ̷̢̡̙͔̙̦͚̥͐̂̆̚ë̵͎͉̖̲̥̍̅͌̓̎͠ M̢̙̠͓̣̩̬̆͆̓́̒a̴̛̰̲̲͙͔̍̊̉̏̈̀̕͘͜͝į̸͉̤͉͐̍̐̑̀͋́̕̕͟͞ǹ̢̦̖͕̭͓̤̙̏̀͂̊̈́̎̐͢͞͞ͅę̳͖̞̥̹͙͚̑̿̃͋͆̏͊͑̃


End file.
